Two Idiots in Love
by PurpleCadet
Summary: Fourteen different fic prompts for Harvey and Donna. No specific timeline. Sometimes they are together, sometimes not.
1. Chapter 1

Happy Valentine's Day Darvey shippers! I decided to fill a bunch of prompts for Harvey and Donna in honour of Valentine's Day and also just because. My aim is to do fourteen so there will be more coming. I have a list of other prompts already but if you have any that you would really like to see feel free to let me know in a review or private message!

Big thanks to Stef who sent me such great prompts xx

* * *

**_He had no idea she gets weak when he's wearing that cologne._**

* * *

He's standing in a stuffy, overcrowded ballroom, caught in an inane conversation with one of the senior partners at Calder and Zane when he spots a flash of red hair amongst the crowd.

She catches his gaze almost immediately, quick to detect his obvious boredom – their slight telepathy built over years of silent communication and thoroughly dull events not unlike this one. She politely excuses herself from whatever conversation she was having and approaches him.

She appears at his side, fingers finding the crook of his elbow. She cracks a smile.

"Excuse me, Mr Howland. I need a private word with Harvey."

"Great meeting you," Harvey lies.

Donna steers him away before the guy – Mr Howland, apparently – can interject with another anecdote he couldn't care less about. Harvey beams at her.

"You saved me."

"And not for the first time."

He allows himself a moment to appreciate how beautiful she is, and revels in the freedom of not having to bury the thought a moment after.

"Is it inappropriate if I tell you how hot you look?"

She grins. "Yes. Very."

He leans in closer to her. "And if I kissed you?"

She pinches his arm in warning. "Don't you dare."

He leans in further still, much to Donna's alarm. He turns his head, lips catching her cheek instead. "Later."

When he pulls back, Donna's eyes are closed. "Careful now, we can't let everyone here know how easily affected you are by me," he teases.

"Oh please," she says, though her flushed cheeks belie her words.

Mike wanders over, and Harvey and Donna instinctively separate. He gives them a curious look.

"Donna, I thought I might have a dance with the second most beautiful woman in the room."

"Not with a cheesy line like that," Harvey interjects.

"Rachel ditch you?" Donna says.

Mike clears his throat. "She may have."

Donna sighs, "Alright fine. But this is a pity dance."

Mike grins broadly at her. "Of course."

Donna gives Harvey a quick wink before she slips her arm through Mike's and the two head for the dance floor.

Harvey watches Mike twirl Donna around. He's a terrible dancer, which is exactly what Harvey had expected. Donna doesn't seem to mind though. He feels a slight twinge at the sight of them. Not jealousy, of course. He's just so tired of keeping up the charade that he's not in love with her. He and Donna have played that game far too long already.

Mike dips Donna and she releases a deep-bellied laugh. The song ends and Donna kisses Mike on the cheek, stepping out of his arms.

Harvey sets his drink down on the tray of a passing waiter and approaches her. He slides up behind her, fingers grazing her hips.

"You're not going to dance with everybody but me, are you?"

He feels her body shiver again. She turns around and there's a mischievous look in her eyes.

"Right now, I don't really feel like dancing…"

He furrows his brow. "Do you want to get a drink?"

She ignores his question and steers him off the dance floor. "Donna?" he asks, getting the feeling that he's being whisked away. Donna directs him outside toward the parking lot.

"Donna, what are we doing in the parking lot?" he deadpans.

She all but drags him over to where Ray's car in inexplicably parked. "When the hell did you have the chance to text Ray?"

Her mouth twists into a smirk. "Can't I have any secrets anymore?"

"And also, where's Ray?"

"We made a little arrangement," she says cockily. "I have the car for fifteen minutes, so I suggest we use them wisely."

Harvey can only gape at her as she opens the door to the back seat and slides inside. He immediately follows suit, slamming the door behind him.

Donna dumps her purse on the seat and climbs onto his lap, her gown pulled up to her hips. Her hands frame his face and she kisses him hard on the mouth. His hands slip under her dress instinctively, skimming up the outside of her thighs.

Donna breaks the kiss and moves her mouth to his neck.

"Not that I have any complaints _whatsoever_, but what has gotten into you?"

She pulls back to look him directly in the eye. Her cheeks are flushed and her lipstick is ever-so-slightly smudged.

"It's that goddamn cologne of yours."

Harvey laughs. "You can't be serious?"

Donna deftly undoes his belt buckle and pulls down his zipper. Her hand slips into his boxers and wraps around his cock, stroking softly.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"Donna," his voice cracks, "I wear this cologne at every formal occasion."

His eyes flutter shut as her grips tightens around him. He can practically feel her watching his face – she loves to do that when he's at her mercy like this.

"But I've never been able to do anything about it before," she points out.

"I would never have objected if you did _this _before."

She stops stroking him, and shoves his shoulders with both hands. "You di –"

He covers her mouth with his own, muffling her words. She bites his lip in return. Harvey reaches under her dress, slipping his hand between her thighs, and _oh god_, she's so wet already.

"Wait."

Donna groans, "Don't you dare stop."

"Did you go commando?"

"Commando? Jeez Harvey, are we fifteen years old?"

"What? It's totally hot."

"Panty lines," she explains tersely.

He shrugs. "Well, that's a lot less exciting."

Donna rolls her eyes. She takes his cock in hand, positions herself and sinks down onto him in one smooth motion.

"You can stop talking now," she instructs, moving sinuously against him.

It's ridiculously hot. Everything about the moment is; her hair falling messily around her shoulders, her gown pooled around both their thighs, her breasts threatening to spill out of her dress.

He's in awe of her, and stupidly lucky to have her.

Donna speeds up her rhythm and she fists his shirt in her hands. He sneaks a hand back under her dress, thumb skimming her clit.

"Faster," she tells him.

He'd do just about anything she asked right now. He replaces his thumb with his middle and index finger, rubbing her clit in rapid, clumsy circles. Her moans and sighs get a little higher and her entire body tenses, then shakes. His hand continues to toy with her clit while she rides it out.

Harvey doesn't know how on earth he is supposed to look at her throughout the remainder of the evening and not immediately think of her like this.

He thrusts into her only a few more times before he comes with an embarrassingly loud moan. She's draped over him, spent. She kisses him softly before she climbs off his lap and onto the space beside him. He groans at the loss of contact and she laughs at the sight of him.

"Jesus Christ, you're a mess."

"You're beautiful."

Donna blushes, clearing her throat. The woman's confidence level is unbelievable, but she never learned how to take a genuine compliment from him. Probably because he rarely doled them out.

She smooths down his wrinkled shirt, fixes his tie and flattens his hair. She wipes his lips with her thumb, removing all traces of her lipstick. Donna straightens herself out next, adjusting her dress and raking her fingers through her hair.

"This feels a lot like prom night," he says with a laugh.

"Prom? Oh Harvey, I knew you were just one big fat cliché."

They climb out the car and Donna pulls out her phone, presumably to text Ray. After a second she says, "You better get back in there."

"You're not coming?"

"Looking thoroughly fu –" Harvey raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Uh, no," she covers. "Ray will be back in a few minutes to take me home. You, on the other hand, are obligated to be in there. Ray will come and get you later."

"And then what? He'll smuggle me over to your place where you'll kick me out before five a.m.?" he snaps.

"Harvey…"

He holds up a hand to stop her. "No, don't worry, I should know how it goes by now."

Donna glares at him. "That's not fair."

Harvey softens, already feeling guilty for snapping at her. "I'm angry at the situation, not at you, Donna."

Donna steps closer to him, entwining their hands. "I know."

After a moment she says, "Still feel like that dance?"

Harvey smiles and takes her in his arms. For now it's enough.

He also makes a mental note to start wearing that cologne to work.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Harvey has a broken arm and Donna has to stop at his apartment to help him get ready to work.**_

* * *

His alarm has to be buzzing for at least twenty minutes before he cracks his eyes open. He wakes up feeling sore and groggy, making a mental note to cut back on his pain killers.

Harvey glares at the cast plastered around his right arm. He's in remarkable shape, and has at least two decades before he could even be mistaken for an 'old' person. But as Donna loves to continuously remind him, _he's not invincible. _

A broken arm, _how pedestrian_, he thinks.

Harvey walks over to his closest, using his good arm to pull out one of his suits and lay it out on the bed. He slips off his pants easily enough until it comes time to actually get dressed. Harvey pulls on his suit pants and fumbles with the zipper and button, cursing the clumsy fingers on his left hand.

It takes several minutes before he finally has them done up, just enough time to make him genuinely feel like an invalid. He eyes the crisp, white shirt on the bed with its tiny, tiny buttons. He's never been humiliated by an item of clothing before.

Then he remembers the tie.

"Jesus Christ."

He glances at the alarm clock on the nightstand that reads 8:05. He has a partner's meeting in fifteen minutes that he will most definitely be late for.

Harvey grabs his cell phone, swallows what's left of his pride and presses number one on his speed dial.

* * *

"Well this is just sad."

Donna hovers at his bedroom doorway with a smirk on her face. She carries her purse in one hand and two Venti lattes in the other.

"Can you at least pretend you're not enjoying this?"

"That's not in my nature."

Donna discards her purse by the door and places the coffees on the dresser. She saunters across his bedroom, heels clacking across the floorboards.

"Besides," she continues, "You were the one who turned down personal home care."

"Because I'm not a goddamn geriatric."

Donna smiles, then covers it with an eye roll. "It would have saved you from calling your assistant to dress you."

Harvey groans. "Let's not label this."

Donna's eyes flick from his face, down to his torso, then back up – he'd forgotten he wasn't wearing a shirt. She clears her throat.

"Undershirts?" she asks.

He points to the dresser with his left hand. "Second drawer."

Harvey watches her move around his bedroom. She's been in his apartment a dozen times, but never in his bedroom. It's almost as if they mutually agreed that it would be crossing a line.

Donna stands in front of him with a wife-beater in her hands. She seems to be studying him, figuring out her best plan of attack.

"Left arm up," she instructs.

Harvey complies. Donna puts the wife-beater over his head and Harvey slips his good arm through. Her fingers clasp around his right bicep, encouraging him to lift slightly.

Harvey sucks a breath in at the small stab of pain as Donna manoeuvres the wife-beater until it fits over his upper body. Next is his shirt. Donna gently pulls the sleeve over his cast, then helps him into the rest of it.

Donna starts on the bottom button of his shirt, fingers working deftly. Her hands brush against his torso and for a second he swears he sees her fingers falter.

She finishes and takes a step back. She looks almost…_embarrassed? _

"Okay…I'm going to have to tuck your shirt in and I swear to god if you say one word –"

"Donna," he stops her, "Trust me, this is far more embarrassing for me than it is for you."

She gives him a look that clearly says, _I highly doubt that. _Donna makes quick work of his shirt, while Harvey tries desperately to hold onto his remaining dignity. When she's done, she reaches for his nearest belt.

Harvey unwittingly holds his breath as Donna loops his belt through his pants and buckles it, hands resting only a few inches from his crotch.

"_Now this is familiar". _

He doesn't realise he's said it out loud until Donna smacks his chest.

"I'm on a _lot _of painkillers," he says by way of defense.

Donna narrows her eyes at him. "And you're going to need a whole lot more for when I break your _other_ arm."

Harvey chuckles and sits on the edge of his bed. "Are you that eager to do this again?"

"Actually smartass, I scheduled a nurse on my way over here," she informs him.

"Donna! I don't need –"

"Harvey, this is _not _in my job description," Donna reminds him with a laugh. She turns and scours his closet for a tie before she settles on one of his 'loud' ones.

Donna wanders back over. Now that he's sitting, she has no choice but to hover over him, standing between his legs. She gives him a look that tells him she knows exactly what he's doing.

It's an odd sensation, being this close to her.

Donna lifts his collar, loops the tie around his neck and crafts a perfect Windsor knot. She reaches for the sling on his bedside table.

"I don't need it."

She gives him a stern glare and carefully settles his arm in the sling.

"You'll wear it and you'll love it."

_She's far too good for him. _

Donna stares at him quietly, fingers unconsciously fiddling with his collar.

"Don't do anything stupid like that again."

He can't help but scoff. "I didn't exactly _let _that car hit mine, Donna."

"I mean it, Harvey," she whispers, her voice cracking.

He nods wordlessly, itching to wrap his hands around her waist and hold her close. "Okay," he promises her.

Donna steps back, all business again. She gestures towards his feet. "You better be wearing loafers because there's no freaking way I am going to tie your shoelaces for you."

He mock-sighs, "I guess I can compromise."

Donna recollects her purse and hands him one of the coffees. "Well, move it along then, old man."

He lets her get away with the "old man" comment, but only because she's the one upside to having a broken arm.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Donna wonders if all this was just a waste ...**_

* * *

Prompt was based on the lyrics to London Grammar's 'Wasting My Young Years'. This sort of fits it.

* * *

It's Tuesday.

The office is calm, quiet, uneventful even.

Donna turned forty-five this morning. Now she's sorting files. Sorting files in a firm she's worked at for over a third of her life, for a man she's given her best years to.

She hasn't seriously celebrated her birthday since she turned forty, and even then all she did was walk into a surprise party thrown for her.

Instead she prefers to drink far more than she should at her age and fuck someone she has no intention of seeing ever again after the sun rises.

It's going to be the highlight of her day, but for now, she is sorting case files.

* * *

"I hate this, Donna."

Donna smiles reassuringly. "It's not a big deal Rach. We can go out drinking for my sixty-fourth birthday. The kid will be in college then."

Rachel unconsciously rubs her swollen stomach.

"I'm serious, Donna."

She shrugs, poking at what's left of her lunch with her fork. "I'm a big girl."

"At least come over. I can't drink, but believe me, I can eat an entire birthday cake."

Donna squeezes her friend's hand. "Rach, you don't have to babysit me."

"It'll be good practice," Rachel assures her.

She shakes her head. "It's only a birthday, I've had plenty already."

Donna is aware how jaded she has become. She also doesn't care.

* * *

She's forty-five and she's never been married. She knows this concerns people, her mother in particular. If her father could even remember her it might concern him too.

Her two younger sisters have been married since their twenties, moving straight out of their sorority houses and in with their husbands. She has become an aunt five times over.

Donna has been supporting herself since she was eighteen, owns her own apartment in Manhattan and earns double their salaries. But apparently that's all for naught if she's in her forties and unmarried.

Every month when she calls her mother she listens to her prattle on and on about her beautiful grandchildren. Donna hasn't had the heart to tell her that she can't ever have children.

Donna is intelligent, independent and beautiful and she doesn't feel sorry for herself.

But sometimes she thinks about Jessica Pearson and wonders if she ever has regrets.

* * *

Mike is sitting at her desk when she returns to the office.

"Are you lost, little boy?"

He smiles sweetly at her and hands her a triple-shot caramel latte (with cream).

"I've told you before that I don't accept bribes."

Mike places a white paper bag in front of her. "But do you accept cupcakes?"

Donna groans. "I told Rachel not to say anything," she says.

"She didn't. I remembered."

Inside the paper bag is a red velvet cupcake with the creamiest looking icing she has ever seen.

Mike stands up from her desk and walks around to her side. He kisses her cheek lightly and Donna grins in spite of herself.

"Thanks Mike."

"Happy Birthday, Donna."

* * *

She stays back an extra few hours to complete tomorrow morning's work that she won't be able to do with a hangover. What can she say? She's always been diligent.

Harvey's voice cuts through the intercom, "Donna, can you come in here?"

He's standing at his desk, packing up his things when she enters his office.

"Is there something you need before I leave?" she asks.

"Yeah, can you hold these?"

She's about to roll her eyes when he hands her a bouquet of gorgeous white and pink lilies. She hates what it does to her heart.

"Harvey…"

"You thought I forgot," he says, and the words almost sound sad.

Her lack of response is confirmation enough.

"Come on, I'll take you out for a late dinner."

"Don't worry about it, Harvey."

"Donna, it's your birthday, I don't want you to spend it alone."

There's pity in his voice and she could slap him for it. "Who says I'll be alone?"

He scoffs in disgust. "Do you really think fucking some random guy is going to make you feel better?"

Donna shoves the flowers into his chest. "You can keep these."

"Donna –"

"No! You don't get to do this, you don't get to feel sorry for me."

He reaches for her hand but she yanks it violently from his grasp. She doesn't care if it seems like she's overreacting.

"That's not what I'm doing," he says exasperatedly. "I just…miss us. Am I at least allowed to do that?"

Her shoulders slump and she finally looks him in the eye. "You don't love me, Harvey."

He stares at her hopelessly. It had taken years for her to come to the realisation that he would never love her, but he would always need her.

Harvey's problem is that he's never understood the distinction.

"That's what I thought."

She turns away from him, but he snags her wrist. He holds the flowers out to her. She can tell by the expression on his face that he's too upset to speak. She takes the bouquet from his hands.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Harvey."

* * *

She'd seen a film once that claimed the lily means, _"I dare you to love me". _

What a cruel joke, Donna thinks.

Harvey's bouquet sits on her kitchen table for two weeks before it dies.

* * *

Side note: the lily thing was from _Imagine Me &amp; You. _Go and watch it if you haven't before!


	4. Chapter 4

_**Harvey tries to make the first move.**_

* * *

There have been few moments in his life where he was truly nervous. But this is without a doubt one of them. He keeps fidgeting, his palms are sweating, and he's even got cotton mouth for Christ's sake. He's done this before; she's certainly not the first. _Hell, they've known each other for close to fourteen years. _Except he knows that's the real reason he's scared shitless.

For the first time ever, he doesn't quite trust himself to speak. He settles on the safest, most familiar word he knows.

"Donna."

She stops mid-sentence, eyeing him quizzically. He hadn't been listening to her words, too preoccupied with what he planned to say next.

"Harvey?"

He's running out of seconds, and she's starting to look at him like he's grown a second head. The words fall out of his mouth, "Have dinner with me."

Only after he speaks does he realise that he forgot to phrase it as a question. Her mouth twitches and her eyes flash with something he can't decipher. She shrugs.

"Okay, sure. Did you want me to get something delivered here?"

_Did she just say…? Wait a second…_

"What?"

Donna narrows her eyes at him and he feels as if he's shrinking behind his desk. "There are a lot of files to sort through, so should I just get something delivered here?" she asks slowly, as if he's broken.

"Didn't you hear what I said?"

Her eyes search his face. "Are you okay?" she asks, concerned. "Maybe it isn't such a good idea to work through the night."

_Yep, he's blown it._

Harvey sighs, "Yeah, sure."

He watches her wistfully as she saunters out of his office and glides down the hall. He's spent a great deal of time playing that scenario out in his head. Of all the ways it could have gone wrong…he never anticipated that she wouldn't even realise what he was actually asking her.

Right now he almost wishes that she'd said no. At least he had prepared for _that _scenario. He argues for a living, he's practiced the art of turning a _no _into a _yes_. Instead he's stuck standing still. As always.

* * *

It's somewhat of a fantasy of his; the two of them sprawled out on his office floor, files strewn everywhere, their dinner long forgotten. The reality is a dull ache behind his eyes, cold Chinese food and a stack of files that only seems to grow bigger.

Donna rifles through a box of old case files, as diligent as ever. Harvey had taken pity on Rachel, still feeling slightly guilty over her stint in the hospital last month. So he'd found himself associate-less for the evening with an endless amount of paperwork to go through with a fine-toothed comb. The side effect of giving Rachel the night off meant Donna spending hers with him – again. And there were far worse things.

Looking at Donna, he can tell it's been hours since her last coffee. She has her hair tied in a pony-tail at the crown of her head, her shoulders are starting to slump and every so often her eyes flutter closed for just a moment too long.

He sort of feels like an ass. He feels obligated to send her home, but a larger part of him wants to keep her here as long as she'll let him. This part of the day is quickly becoming his favourite; when it's just the two of them on the entire floor and he can quietly enjoy her company under the safe guise of work.

But he won't send her home for the simple fact that it's getting harder and harder to say goodbye to her each night. She'd call him crazy if he ever told her that. She's said herself that they already put in fifteen hour days twelve feet from each other. But it's the in-between parts that he wants most with her.

He abruptly snaps out of his musings as Donna whacks him across the head with a folder.

"Jesus Donna! What the hell was that?"

"You stopped highlighting twenty minutes ago," she scolds. Harvey glances down at the abandoned paperwork in his lap. "And you started staring at me _fifteen_ minutes ago," she adds.

He clears his throat and smiles sheepishly at her. "Guilty." She folds her arms and quirks an eyebrow at him. It's unfairly adorable. Harvey flicks her ponytail with his highlighter. "You're distracting."

Harvey's surprised to see her flush – an occurrence as rare as his anxiety this afternoon. Donna smiles bashfully. "You're delirious."

It's quite possible he is, because he decides then and there that this is the moment. _Their moment. _

"Donna, I need to confess something."

"Oh god, what have you done?"

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "Donna, I'm trying to be serious here."

"I know, it's very amusing."

He tilts his head and gives her the look that he reserves for the moments she decides to be intentionally difficult.

"Fine, go ahead. Be serious," she relents.

"Earlier today when I asked you to have dinner with me…I was asking you out on a date."

He's never felt more awkward – or more like a teenager again. He waits for her surprise and an inevitable a cackle of laughter. Instead she stares blankly at him. Actually, not blankly, _knowingly. _He laughs humourlessly. "But you knew that."

"Three things…"

He sighs, but slams his mouth shut when she scowls at him.

"First; you didn't _ask, _you _demanded._"

"That's not –"

"Second; _that's _how you ask me out? At work? While you're sitting at your desk?"

He isn't quite sure what to say to that. "It felt like the right time," he protests weakly.

"I was reading you your messages," she deadpans.

"But you do it so well."

Donna continues, unamused, "And third; you must be a bigger idiot than I realised."

"Okay, I'll admit I deserved the first two…"

"Harvey, we've worked together for almost fourteen years," she says, readying the excuse they've both been making for over a decade.

"It's taken me a long time to work up the courage," he jibes.

She ignores his comment. "Plus, it's been like eleven years since we…" she trails off.

He knows she'll never say it. She's stayed true to her word, never mentioning it again in all these years. It's as if she worried speaking about it would suddenly breathe new life into the memory.

"Not saying it aloud doesn't erase the fact that it happened, Donna," he says, annoyance colouring his voice.

"Why are you doing this now, Harvey?" she asks tiredly.

"This can't come as a shock after last week."

Donna stands up from the couch and begins straightening out the mess they've made. She likes to keep her hands occupied when she's anxious; it's one of her evasive tactics. Donna tends to forget that he knows her just as well as she knows him.

"Are you going to pretend that didn't happen too?" he snaps at her.

"_**Nothing happened.**_"

"Actually I kissed you. Or have you forgotten?"

Her hands freeze, but only for a second. She shuffles a set of papers until they're in order and shoves them into a folder. "Don't be a dick," she says without looking at him.

"Donna –"

"Can we not have this conversation? It's late, I'm going home," she says tightly, without any room for argument.

Donna pretends not to notice as Harvey follows her out of his office and over to her desk, observing her as she silently collects her purse. He reaches for her coat before she has the chance to. He holds it out for her and motions for her to turn around.

"You are such a child," she mutters as she reluctantly complies. Donna slips her arms into the coat as Harvey slides it over her shoulders. He steps closer, lightly tugging on the band that secures her hair. It tumbles across her neck. She whips around to face him. Harvey straightens her collar and grins from ear to ear.

"Don't think I won't ask you again."

"My answer remains the same."

"Is that so?" he smirks, "Because I never heard you say _no._"


	5. Chapter 5

**_There's a blizzard in NYC. Harvey gets worried and checks on Donna._**

* * *

So this prompt quickly warped into something else entirely. Hope you like x.

* * *

This might be one of the more irrational decisions he's made in his life.

He pulls into the driveway, the entire front lawn covered in a thick layer of snow. He buttons up his coat and braves the bitter winter air, marching up to the front door.

It takes several moments of knocking before he finally gets an answer. When the door opens, he's met with the confused expression of a woman he's only met a handful of times in the past fifteen years.

"Harvey? Harvey Specter?"

He clears his throat. "Ms Paulsen…uh, Merry Christmas."

The woman in front of him is equal parts confused and intrigued by his sudden appearance on her doorstep. "Well come on inside, we can't very well let you freeze out here," she says, ushering him into her home.

"Does Donna know you're coming here, Harvey?" she asks as she takes his coat and hangs it in the closet by the door. The older woman wears a knowing smile, clearly as shrewd as her daughter.

"Not exactly," he cryptically replies.

"Mom, who was at the door?" Donna's voice filters through the hallway and Harvey tries to prepare any remotely reasonable explanation for his abrupt appearance.

When she sees him, she stops dead in her tracks and almost laughs.

"Donna, your boss is here," her mother says unnecessarily, clearly amused by the situation.

Donna folds her arms across her chest. "Thanks, mom, I see that."

Ms Paulsen glances between the two of them before she excuses herself. "Well, I'm going to go and make sure your sisters haven't killed each other in the two minutes I've been gone."

When they're alone Donna finally gives him the glare that she was trying to hold back in front of her mother.

"Look, Donna, before you say anything…"

"What the fuck, Harvey?!" she says in a shrill whisper.

"…Like that."

She takes a step towards him, eyes steely. "You cannot just show up at my parents' house."

His hands drop to her waist as he closes the distance between them. Donna's gaze flicks down to where they are positioned – a clear warning. He ignores it and says, "There's a blizzard in New York."

"Yes, I've been watching the news."

He cups her cheek. "And I was worried about you."

"I'm in _Cortland_, Harvey."

He tries a smile. "Irrelevant."

She steps out of his arms, petulant, though much less agitated. He counts it as a victory. She brushes past him, heading in the direction of the dining room.

"That is the lamest excuse you've ever come up with to see me," she says.

Harvey trails after her, hand finding the small of her back. He leans into her ear and whispers, "I didn't think I needed an excuse anymore."

She immediately breaks her stride and turns to him, hand braced on his chest. "Do don't pull any of that crap in front of my family."

_She can't be serious. _

"Donna, they don't even know?"

"There is _nothing _to know," she stresses. "You made that pretty clear before I left."

She sucks in a breath and tucks her hair behind her ears. He wants to explain, but it's hardly the time – and there's no chance in hell she's going to let him anyway.

"You stay for dinner and then you leave, got it?"

He nods limply and follows her into the dining room.

* * *

He imagines this is what an interrogation feels like.

Between the imploring questions being fired his way from Donna's younger sisters and the passive aggressive ones from her father, Harvey is beginning to wish he was seated at the children's table with Donna's niece and nephew.

"So Harvey," Donna's father starts, "Do you make it a habit of crashing other people's dinners?"

_Well that one was just plain aggressive. _

"Rob!" Donna's mother scolds, slapping the man lightly on the hand.

Harvey swallows a bite of his roast beef and spares a glance at Donna, who has remained almost entirely (and unhelpfully) silent since they began eating. He knows this is her idea of punishment for showing up unannounced.

"No, it's fine. I uh…"

This time Donna does decide to swoop in and save him, "Harvey's brother had to leave the city. I didn't see a point in letting him spend what's left of the holidays by himself."

He attempts to squeeze her hand in gratitude under the table, but she brushes him off.

Donna's sister Amelia smiles cheerfully at him. "We're happy to have you here. I only wish you could have met Eric."

"Next time," he says, "Saving lives is a whole lot more important."

He's thankful to have at least one of the Paulsen sisters on his side. Donna's youngest sister, Andie, has been shooting daggers at him since he arrived. Apparently she's as sceptical of him as her father.

"You two have worked together for how long now?" she asks.

"Fourteen and a half years," he and Donna answer at the same moment.

Amelia chuckles at the two of them, while Donna's mother hides a smile behind her glass of wine.

"And I've never once met you," Andie says. It's clearly an accusation of some sort.

"Harvey works all the time, Andie," Donna says.

Andie paints a seemingly sweet smile on her face. _Now where has he seen that before? _

"Right. I guess that's why I only ever see my sister twice a year."

Donna shoots a glare at her sister. The room falls silent, save for the sound of cutlery scraping against ceramic plates.

Donna's mother abruptly stands up from the table. She collects her plate and snatches Andie's.

"I'm not done."

"Oh yes, you are. Now come and give me a hand with the dishes."

Andie acquiesces, following her mother to the kitchen. To her credit, she does seem at least a little embarrassed by her outburst.

"Younger siblings," Amelia mutters. "I'm sure you can relate, Harvey."

"They certainly can be…difficult," he says carefully.

"Your brother is how old, Harvey?" Donna's father asks.

Harvey is all too eager to answer a reasonable question. "Thirty-three."

"You close?"

Donna's gaze catches his. "We don't see each other as often as I'd like."

Donna's father takes a measured sip of beer. Harvey is an expert at reading people, and Donna's father has never trusted him. The man puts Harvey on edge – something he can scarcely say about anybody. They've only shared a few interactions over the years, and somehow it always felt like he was meeting his high school girlfriend's father for the first time.

"Understandable. Not everybody places such a high value on family."

"Dad!" Donna intervenes, fuming.

Amelia wisely abandons the three of them at the table and takes her son and daughter into the next room.

"Actually sir," Harvey says, trying to curb his anger, "Donna is my family – the firm is my family."

Donna is visibly touched by his words and her father seems appeased by the answer. Harvey releases a breath he didn't realise he had been holding.

"You smoke cigars?"

"Uh, yes," Harvey says.

Donna's father rises from the table; an invitation for Harvey to do the same. The older man exits the kitchen, Harvey looks to Donna.

She shrugs, as confused as he is. "Go on then."

* * *

As furious as she had been with Harvey, she's about ready to murder Andie and her father. Okay, her father's behaviour she can forgive, but her sister? Not so easy.

After Harvey is whisked away outside, she takes the opportunity to join her mother and sister in the kitchen.

"Andrea, I cannot believe you."

Her sister scrunches up her nose at the use of her full name. "I am not going to apologise," she stubbornly answers.

"Really, Andie," her mother says, "You couldn't have at least waited until we'd finished dinner to attack the poor man?"

"Harvey can handle himself, that's not the issue here." Donna says before turning to her sister. "But don't blame him for me not coming around. I happen to love my life in the city."

"We know, Donna. You just couldn't _wait _to get away from us."

Out of the corner of her eye, Donna sees her mother sigh. She and Andie have been having the same version of this fight for years now. Her youngest sister is almost as headstrong as she is and their eleven year age gap has never helped matters. It must have been a relief to her mother that Amelia was such a placid child growing up.

"Mom, I'll help finish up the dishes, you go and relax," Donna says.

Her mother removes her hands from the soapy sink water and shakes her head at the two of them, stepping out of the kitchen.

Donna joins Andie at the sink and starts scrubbing furiously at one of the pots.

"Do you think we could not involve my boss in our yearly fight, And?"

Andie scoffs. "He is not just your_ boss_," she says, using air quotes around the word 'boss'.

Donna opens her mouth, poised to argue, until her sister raises her eyebrows, silently reasoning with her to cut the bullshit.

"I won't tell Mom and Dad," she says quietly. "But for the record, I think they already guessed the second he sat down at the table."

"We're not…I don't even know what we are."

Donna continues scrubbing the dishes, while Andie dries. After a moment her sister says, "It's almost a four hour drive to Cortland from Manhattan, even longer in this shitty weather."

Donna chews her lip, considering a fact that had already occurred to her. "I don't care if you don't like him."

Andie laughs. "You've never liked any of my girlfriends," she rightly points out. "I guess we're even.

Donna smiles crookedly at her sister and bumps her shoulder against hers. "I'll visit more."

Andie lightly shakes her head. "You won't, but that's okay. Maybe I can finally venture into the city. I could really do some damage in New York."

"No freaking way."

* * *

When Donna waltzes into the living room she has to bite her lip to keep from smiling stupidly at the scene before her. Harvey is spread out on the carpet with her niece, Lily, as she gives him an exclusive tour of her brand new doll house.

Her nephew, Oliver comes running over, almost tackling her at the knees. She scoops him up in a bear hug.

"Hey there, little man," she says, tickling him as she kisses his cheek.

"Yuck," he protests, playfully scrunching up his face.

Harvey spots her and flashes a grin. He pats Lily on the head and the little girl smiles brightly up at him. Harvey leaves her to her own devices and approaches Donna.

He holds out his palm to Oliver and says, "Hey buddy, can I get a high five?"

Oliver slaps his hand and Harvey winks at him. Then her nephew looks up at her, deceptively innocent and says, "Is Uncle Harvey your boyfriend, Aunt Donna?"

Donna glances down at her nephew, then at Harvey before she returns her gaze to Oliver. "Ollie, how much money did he give you to say that?"

"Five dollars," Oliver immediately answers.

Donna grins triumphantly. "Which I want back by the way," Harvey teases.

Oliver wiggles in Donna's arms and she lowers him onto the ground. "Nope!" he shouts before he runs back over to his sister.

"You have to resort to conspiring with five years olds now?" she asks Harvey.

"In my defence, he wasn't supposed to tell you I put him up to it."

"Uh huh." After a beat she says, "Did my father grill you about us?"

"No, thank god. He actually thanked me for letting he and your mother stay at my condo that one time. Truthfully I think he felt a little guilty for already grilling me at the dinner table."

Donna winces. "About that…"

"Yeah?"

"I was pretty angry when I got here Christmas Eve, I think they sensed that it may have had something to do with you and –"

"Then I just showed up on their doorstep confirming it?"

Donna can't help but chuckle. "Exactly."

Harvey reaches for her hand, tangling their fingers. "I was an id –" Harvey looks at Oliver and Lily and censors himself, "Stupid. I was stupid."

Donna holds up a finger against his lips. "I overreacted. I should know by now that I can't push you into something that you aren't ready for."

Harvey smirks at her. "What?" she asks.

"Do you think I would have driven all the way up here and sat through one of the more uncomfortable dinners of my life if I wasn't ready?"

Donna drags him out of the living room and into the hallway because there's no way she can bravely say what she needs to if there's a chance of her family interrupting.

"I told you I loved you and you freaked out," she reminds him in a hushed whisper, her cheeks flushing at the memory.

Harvey cups her face with both hands. "Donna, I want to be with you. _Only you_. I know it took us years to get to this point but I still need us to take baby steps."

She nods. "Baby steps."

He leans into her, bumping his nose with hers. They are already far too adorable at this point. Actually, she still can't quite believe they are at this point.

"Is that okay?" he asks. "Because I'd kind of prefer it if we don't screw this up."

Donna shrugs, pretending to ponder his words. "Yeah, I guess that's okay."

"And I do, by the way," he tells her quietly.

She winks at him. "Yeah I kinda figured."

He moves to kiss her but they are interrupted by the sound of somebody clearing their throat. Harvey breaks away, embarrassed.

"Time for dessert, kids," Donna's mother informs them. "I take it you'll be staying Harvey?"

Harvey searches her face for an answer. She grins, interlocking their fingers.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Donna and Harvey run into each other outside of work.**_

* * *

Some people are just natural runners. They thrive on pushing past their body's resistance until they get to a point where everything blurs and there is nothing else in the world but the sound of their rapid heartbeat thrumming in their ears.

Donna is sure it's all bullshit. Pilates and yoga she understands. Her long, shapely limbs are perfect for it; she was never built for intense workouts. Why would she spend hours sweating on a treadmill or an exercise bike and never go anywhere? And honestly, she has spent every year since college alternatively strutting and running through law offices in expensive pumps that she may as well be a contender for the Olympics.

But really, sex is the only sport she takes seriously, and unfortunately they don't give out awards for that (perfect tens all around, by the way).

Though lately she's been feeling like a restless ball of untapped energy. Since the Liberty Rail incident (or the most epically stupid fuckup of her career, as she has quietly taken to naming it in her head), she has been putting in even more hours at the office - overcompensating, as it were.

Even when she can actually make it to one of her weekly pilates classes, or actually find a guy that's worth her time, she is still left feeling antsy, unfulfilled even. No amount of stretching or casual sex can alter this perpetual state of tension that she has found herself in.

So now, after thirty odd years, Donna Paulsen decides to go for a run.

If she plans to be at work by seven, she needs to leave for her hour-long run by five am. She throws a black tank top over her sports bra and slips into a pair of grey yoga pants. She laces up her sneakers and ties her hair into a lopsided bun while trying to swallow a yawn.

Since she isn't sure that she is entirely conscious yet, Donna decides to walk to Central Park rather than run. She's ambitious, yes, but not unrealistic, she's definitely going to need to ease into this.

Getting started is easy, and with her headphones blaring in her ears she is able to distract herself from the repetitive dullness of her feet slapping against the pavement.

She stops after fifteen minutes and bends down to take a drink from a nearby fountain, concluding that this running thing already sucks.

A hand touches her shoulder and she immediately does a spit take.

"What the hell?!"

She presses pause on her iPod and jerks around, but instead of finding an impatient stranger, it's Harvey who is staring back at her. He's dressed like an athlete in training, tracksuit pants and a dark fitted t-shirt, so at odds with the polished version of him that she is so accustomed to.

"You're up early."

It takes her just a second longer than usual to recover.

"I'm running."

He raises an eyebrow. "I can see that."

Donna sweeps her thumb across her lip then dabs at her forehead with the back of her hand. There is no question that she looks like crap right now. If there was any caffeine in her system she may have been alert enough to feel embarrassed.

"Why?" Harvey asks.

"Exercise, fresh air, health, general well-being. I don't know, Harvey, why does anybody run?"

He's a little taken aback and she realises then that she snapped.

"No, really," she amends, "Why does anybody run? Why do you? I hate this."

"Endorphins," he answers with a shrug.

"That natural high I've heard you mention?" He nods. "Yeah, I'm still waiting for that to kick in," she says, unconvinced.

"First of all…" He plucks her headphones out from her ears and holds them out to her. "You shouldn't be listening to music. It distracts you from breathing correctly."

She shoves her headphones into her pocket. Harvey gestures to her arms.

"And you need to relax. Your body is far too tense."

"Were you watching me run, Harvey?"

She sees a wicked look appear in his eyes, though it's gone as quickly as it came.

"_Trying _to run."

She rolls her eyes. She's heard Harvey openly comment about Jessica's figure and countless other women, but god forbid he ever admit that he finds her attractive too.

"Come on, I'll let you run with me."

"Well, gee, thanks."

"Do you want to do this properly or not?"

"I don't want to do this at all."

"Jeez, why do I even bother?" he says tiredly and she feels the frustration in his voice, frustration aimed at her. He catches himself a moment later though. "Sorry, it's still early."

"Right."

"No coffee."

"Yeah. Uh, let's do this, then."

He nods sharply and takes the lead, waiting for her to follow (like always).

Unlike Donna, Harvey's body was tailor-made for running. He's surprisingly graceful, the way his body moves effortlessly and after another fifteen minutes he's barely broken a sweat. In fact he wouldn't look out of place in one of those pointless running montages that have appeared in dozens of films she's watched over the years.

It's irritating how easy this is for him, while she lags behind, breath laboured and sweat emanating from her pores.

"Keep going," he urges.

She wants to throw her sneaker at his face. He takes pity on her moments later, slowing down to a walk.

He glances at her several times when he thinks she doesn't notice, his mouth flaps open and shut, clearly he has something to say to her.

"I look gross."

"That's not it, Donna."

"Of course not. I've never looked hotter," she says through ragged breaths, tank top clinging to her skin.

He laughs easily. She's missed that sound.

"You know, I can't remember the last time we saw each other outside of work," he says in an attempt to sound casual.

"Does court count?"

His gaze darkens; he tears his eyes away from her.

"Uh, bad joke. Sorry."

He still doesn't look at her. They approach a bench and Harvey takes a seat, sinking low into the chair. She tentatively joins him.

"I never did say –"

"Don't," he says firmly.

She slams her mouth shut and sinks back into the bench too. That tension, that insurmountable anxious feeling that she can't get rid of? Well the source is slumped right beside her, and they're both too polite to get up and move, as much as they want to.

They remain this way for a long time, not talking. She's glad for it though, she'd probably say something regrettable.

The park slowly grows fuller, a sure sign that the rest of New York is finally awake. Donna hasn't slept through an entire night in months. One look at Harvey tells her the same story.

Donna rests her heavy head on Harvey's shoulder and after a moment, feels his hand slide into hers.

Her body finally relaxes.

* * *

I just realised that I took this prompt literally haha


	7. Chapter 7

So I'm trying not to give into the my pessimistic side, but damn, these two are depressing me lately. I really needed to write something small and fluffy just to combat the stupid feelings they inspire. Lord help us all.

* * *

_**Donna doesn't know everything.**_

* * *

He wakes up to the sound of her pottering around in his kitchen, ceramic rattling against marble, the soft echo of her voice bouncing off the walls as she hums a nameless tune. He can vividly picture the scene that is waiting for him down the hall; Donna draped in the rattiest sweatshirt he owns, perched on one of his bar stools with one leg crossed demurely over the other as if she were eating breakfast in a five star restaurant rather than cereal directly from the box. She doesn't even touch her cell phone before nine am on Sundays, but she's always up before seven. Much like him, the workaholic in her doesn't allow for weekends off.

Harvey hoists his weary body out of bed and attempts to navigate a path to the bedroom door, almost stumbling over a dainty (and dangerous) pair of heels for the third time in a week. There are pieces of Donna scattered all over his home. Her dresses occupying space in his closet, pressed up against his suits. His bathroom filled with the usual suspects; a blow dryer, make-up, moisturiser, a bright purple toothbrush. He knows if he enters the office he hardly uses that Donna's laptop will be buried underneath a mountain of paperwork and well-worn copies of her favourite plays will be hidden in the spare crevices of his book case.

Donna is the only woman to ever leave a mark behind, and it happened long before he ever took notice. On the rare occasion that Harvey tried to share his space with a woman, he always felt as if he was sacrificing something. But Donna hogging two thirds of his bed every night or drinking all the coffee in his house doesn't feel like a compromise. If he were still in therapy, this may have been referred to as _progress. _

Harvey shuffles down the hallway to the kitchen, smiling when he glimpses a familiar flame of wild red hair. Harvey moves to her side and places a quick kiss on her bare shoulder while she's busy reading the newspaper. Donna smiles before taking a sip from the coffee mug she cradles in her hand.

Harvey spots the empty pot of coffee on the bench and sighs.

"I guess I'll run out and get some coffee." He gestures to the box of granola within Donna's reach. "Do you want something else other than that sad excuse for a breakfast?" he asks teasingly.

"No need," Donna mutters distractedly, "I went out and bought some groceries before you woke up."

"You did?"

Donna looks up sharply, a glint in her eyes, "Don't look so shocked. As much as I genuinely enjoy living out of your takeout drawer, I know how you love to show off by cooking for me."

He scoffs in protest but Donna fixes him with a patronising glare. Harvey moves behind her again, hands falling to her shoulders, lips caressing her neck.

"Don't pretend like you don't love it too," he mumbles into her skin.

Donna laughs easily, "Don't pretend like we're still talking about your culinary skills."

In the far corner of his kitchen Harvey notices a bag of dry cleaning draped over a chair.

"I hope you didn't bring Louis' dry cleaning here."

"Please, you and I both know I'm not that kind of secretary," she says, almost affronted. Harvey squeezes her shoulder in silent apology. He's mostly come to terms with the fact that they won't ever work together again, and finally admitting his feelings for her certainly softened the blow of that realisation, but it's still something of a sore spot between them.

_Partners in every way except the way they started. _

Donna tilts her head up, kissing his lips briefly, "I picked up our dry cleaning while I was out," she explains.

Harvey frowns, feeling the need to clarify, "Ours?"

"Yes, 'ours'. Why would I pick up mine and not yours?" Donna asks.

Harvey's hands slide from her shoulders. Donna eyes at him curiously. He circles the kitchen, tugging open the door to the pantry, then the fridge. His entire kitchen has been stocked with food. It's practically unrecognisable.

"What's with you?"

Harvey takes a long moment to _really _survey the state his condo is in. The two coats hanging by the door, the pair of discarded wine glasses on the coffee table, the dress he peeled off of Donna's body still decorating the couch from the night before. Coupled with his bedroom and bathroom, there is not one lingering shred of bachelorhood, everything screams _his and hers_. The signs have been present for months, and it's just about the only instance in their entire relationship that Harvey has arrived at the correct conclusion before Donna.

"Donna, I think I one of us needs to say it…"

She seems to sober at his tone. He finishes his thought before she has the chance to misinterpret, "I think we are living together."

Donna's expression is a mixture of relief and amusement. Her mouth opens and shuts as she considers how to respond to his half-cocked revelation.

"You _think _we are living together? Are you still drunk?" she asks with faux-seriousness.

"When was the last time you bought groceries for your own apartment? Or the last time you spent the night there?"

"Jeez Harvey, you never even reacted all those times I used your corporate card during happy hour," she says, rolling her eyes.

Harvey smirks gleefully. He advances on Donna, finger pointing at her accusingly, "You don't remember, do you?"

Donna picks up her newspaper and begins reading with purpose. "Remember what?" she casually asks.

Harvey folds his arms. "Wow, that part-time course is really paying off, I almost believe that bullshit."

Donna narrows her eyes.

"When was the last time you spent the night at your apartment?" he asks again.

Donna only needs to ponder half a second before she answers, "My birthday," with a triumphant grin.

Harvey smiles fondly at the memory. Rachel and Mike had had the well-intentioned, yet completely misguided idea to throw Donna a surprise party for her fortieth birthday. Harvey knew Donna well enough to understand that she only liked to be the centre of attention on her own terms. He remembers that the two of them bailed on the festivities before eleven and stumbled hand in hand back to his place, where he practically ravished her in the elevator.

"That was six weeks ago."

"No it was…" Her eyes widen as she mentally does the math. She straightens her posture and calmly folds her newspaper in half, then folds it again before she promptly whacks him with it.

"Why didn't you tell me I'd moved in?" she says, near hysterical, her cheeks flushing an attractive shade of pink.

Harvey's body wracks with laughter. "I thought you knew everything."

Her shoulders slump as she mutters, "Jeez, between this and –"

"Me being in love with you," he supplies.

"I've lost my superpowers."

Harvey kisses her forehead tenderly. He isn't under any delusions, she has her flaws (and he has plenty of his own) and their relationship isn't perfect, but she's never stopped being _Wonder Woman _in his eyes.

"Harvey, if you're freaking out…if this isn't something you're ready for, it's okay."

He crouches down so they're at eye level with one another. "Donna, I'm not looking for an out," he reassures her. "And I don't think I'm the one freaking out right now."

Her eyes search aimlessly around the room, avoiding his stare. "It just took us so long to get here, Harvey. And I don't want us to screw it up by moving too fast because of some knee-jerk reaction to make up for lost time."

"That's not what we're doing," Harvey insists, but there's a truth to her words that he can't exactly deny.

It had been twelve years of adamantly denying their feelings for one another, followed by several months of minimal contact before he even had the balls to address said feelings, then a whole month longer to actually convince Donna that he was in this for real.

Getting to where they are now had been _work. _If he's being honest, maybe he is trying to make up for a decade of missed opportunities with her.

"Okay, maybe we are," he confesses. "But I don't care."

Donna gives him a lopsided smile. "Neither do I."

"Well, good."

"Good."

Donna slides off the bar stool and Harvey stands to his full height. His hands settle on the curve of her waist. "I've got a few ideas of how we can celebrate your moving day," he leers.

"Star Trek marathon?"

"Of course."

Donna shakes her head, cursing herself. "I can't believe you knew before I did."

"Don't worry, when we're married I'll let you figure it out first."

"Smartass," she whispers in the space between their lips.


	8. Chapter 8

**So I might ever so slowly actually post 14 chapters/one-shots to finish this thing. I was recently inspired by Mother's Day of all things to post story number 8. Slightly AU. I'd love to hear your thoughts.**

* * *

_**Harvey spends the day with Donna's daughter.**_

* * *

They don't see each other on weekends anymore. Not that they ever made it a habit before, but the hours they spend in each other's company now exist almost exclusively on the fiftieth floor of _Pearson Specter Litt. _Which is why receiving a phone call from her in the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday is somewhat of an anomaly.

"Donna?" he says by way of greeting.

"Are you home?"

"Yeah. I'm running late for a meeting, why?"

He hears her pause on the other end of the line.

"It's okay, never mind."

He stops dead in his tracks.

"What's wrong? Donna?"

"I'm, uh. Wow, this feels weird to say aloud, but my father just had a heart attack."

"Shit, Donna. I'm sorry, is he going to be okay?" Are you okay?"

She takes an uneven breath. Harvey can tell that she's holding back tears.

"What can I do?" he implores.

"I hate to ask –"

"Ask."

"Would you mind taking Sophie for a few hours? I really don't want her to have to be at the hospital. My mom's a wreck, my sister is completely freaking out, they keep mumbling about health insurance or knowing my family, their lack there-of."

"Of course I can take her," he insists. "Where are you?"

"Your hallway."

He lunges for the door, opening it to find Donna and her daughter on the other side. Donna has Sophie's hand in a death grip, her face flushed, eyes brimming with unshed tears. She offers him a shaky smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"Sorry to spring this on you."

Harvey waves her off, opening the door wider so the two can step inside.

"Normally I would just ask Mike and Rachel but they're still on their honeymoon for another week. But you know that. Anyway."

Donna bends down so that she is at eye level with her daughter. She places a firm kiss on her cheek and runs a hand through her ponytail, reluctant to leave her behind. Harvey averts his eyes, feeling as if he is intruding on a private moment.

"You behave for Uncle Harvey, okay honey?"

He tries not to react to Donna's affectionate use of the word _uncle. _

"I will," Sophie assures her.

Donna stands back to her full height and briefly touches his shoulder. "Thank you for doing this. I'm heading to the hospital now, I'll be back tonight."

"Think nothing of it, Donna."

She leans in close to whisper in his ear. "Don't worry, she's very low maintenance."

"Just like her mother," he jibes.

He's rewarded with a genuine, albeit brief smile before Donna rushes back out his front door, a hurried _goodbye_ on her lips.

* * *

Harvey has nephews, yes, but his brother's children might as well be causal acquaintances for all the time he's spent with them. He can talk to (read: manipulate) almost anyone, but children continue to be elusive to him.

Sophie sits quietly in the middle of his couch, legs dangling over the edge, her wide eyes fixed on the TV in front of her. She's barely uttered a word in the forty-six minutes she's been here. And yes, he has been counting.

Should he be letting her watch TV? Shouldn't she be reading or playing with toys or some imaginary friend? Jesus, he's clueless when it comes to kids. Especially girls. Hell, most days he still can't figure her mother out.

Harvey gestures to the TV. "You like Disney movies?"

He almost rolls his eyes at how pathetic he sounds.

Sophie nods emphatically. "Mum doesn't let me watch a lot of them."

"No?"

"She says there are too many damsels in distress."

Harvey laughs because it sounds exactly like the kind of wisdom Donna would impart to her daughter. "Do you know even what that means?"

If a seven year old could give him a withering glare he thinks Sophie just may have.

"I know a lot of things."

Harvey smirks. "Well, have you ever heard the phrase, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree?"

But Sophie ignores him, _The Little Mermaid _pulling her focus again.

"Do you want to watch another one?" Harvey asks after a very short eighty minutes. _Damn Disney_.

"No."

"Okay."

His eyes search frantically around the room, looking for anything that could possibly occupy a kid for a few hours. He comes up short of course, this condo was built for a bachelor, and Sophie is probably the first kid ever to set foot inside. Harvey quickly dismisses the significance.

"I'm kinda hungry."

Great, he can work with that.

"What do you feel like?"

"Umm…"

Harvey then remembers that all he has in his kitchen is scotch, bottled water and leftover take out. Shit.

"We could go somewhere and eat," he suggests.

Sophie seems to regard him warily.

"You like milkshakes?"

"Yeah…"

Harvey stands and gestures for Sophie to do the same. "Well come on, then."

Sophie shrugs and follows him to the door.

* * *

Harvey takes her to _the diner_ and it's only the third, maybe fourth time he's stepped foot inside, but he's only ever been here with a Paulsen woman. Oddly enough, the diner is packed with people, large groups gathered around too-small tables, patrons squashed up against one another at the counter.

A waitress greets them at the entrance. She looks apologetic.

"Do you have a reservation?"

"A reservation?"

"I'm sorry sir, we can only do takeaway orders right now. Father's Day is always busy for us."

He'd forgotten. It had been so many years since he had to remember.  
Harvey glances down at Sophie and feels a sudden surge of responsibility to make sure she doesn't have such a lousy day.

He feels Sophie reach up and take his hand.

"This was mommy's favourite place to eat."

Sophie flashes her big, sad eyes and Harvey watches as the waitress completely crumbles.

"Sorry sweetheart, we'll just have to come back tomorrow," he says, playing along.

"Wait, table nine is just paying their check now. They should only be a few minutes, I think we can squeeze you in before the dinner rush." The waitress smiles sympathetically before she leaves to attend to the table.

Harvey extends his hand toward Sophie for a low five. She slaps it excitedly.

Once they are seated, Harvey leans forward to whisper conspiratorially, "Good thinking, kid."

Sophie beams with pride.

"Playing the dead mommy card though, little dark don't you think?"

"Mom would have done the same thing."

Harvey picks up a menu, smiling. "Yeah, she would have."

They sit in silence for a few moments, perusing their menus. Harvey notes that Sophie has the exact same expression as her mother when she's trying to make a decision , gets the same little knot in her brow.

She's more reserved than Donna, but she's hardly shy – a precocious little seven year old with the same mischievous smile. Harvey doesn't know her though, at least not outside of her mother. Today may even be the first time since she was a newborn that he's spent more than thirty full minutes with her. He feels guilty never having made the effort, even though it was out of self-preservation.

"Do you know what you want?"

"Cheese fries and a large strawberry milkshake."

"Nice choice."

The same waitress from before reaches their table.

"What will you be having hon?" she asks Sophie.

"Two cheese fries and two strawberry milkshakes please."

The waitress glances over at Harvey. He hands her their menus. "I guess that's what we're having."

His phone buzzes and he retrieves it from his pocket. Donna's name flashes on the caller ID.

"Your mom's calling me," he tells Sophie. "Hey, how is everything?" he answers.

"We haven't been in to see him yet, we're still waiting on news, good or bad."

"He'll be alright Donna, he's resilient."

"He's stubborn," Donna correct with a breathy laugh.

"He is that."

"How is she?"

"I'm not sure, she climbed out of the window, got on some guy's motorcycle. I heard something about a rave in Brooklyn, she wasn't very forthcoming."

Sophie laughs from across the table.

"Harvey Reginald Specter…"

"She's good. Aren't you Soph?"

Harvey holds the phone out for Sophie. "We having milkshakes, Mom!" she shouts into the phone.

Harvey brings it back to his ear. "You better not be loading my kid with sugar, Harvey."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Donna. I've seen what you're like on a sugar high."

"I'll call you when I know more," she promises.

"Alright, I'll talk to you soon."

By the time he hangs up the phone, their food arrives promptly on the table.

"Jesus kid, I think they really felt sorry for us."

"Is grandpa okay?" Sophie asks, worrying her lip between her teeth.

"They're still waiting to hear from the doctors. But they should know more soon. Your mom said she'd call."

Sophie nods and begins picking at her cheese fries.

"Is that what you were doing today, having Father's Day lunch?"

"Yep. It was our first time there."

"What do you normally do for Father's Day?" he casually asks.

Sophie's face lights up, "Me and Mom get a bunch of movies and watch them for hours and we stay in our pjs all day."

"So why the change of plans?"

Sophie shrugs. "I think mom felt bad that I don't see grandma and grandpa much."

Harvey nods, absorbing the information. He's always known Donna's relationship with her parents is tumultuous at times. Admittedly, Harvey has never been her father's biggest fan, but he understands the need for family. Well, for most people anyway.

"Where's your dad?" Sophie inquires.

Harvey considers telling a white lie, but he feels compelled to be honest with the girl. Funny how she has that effect on him.

"He passed away."

Sophie frowns. "When?"

"Over ten years ago."

"Do you miss him?"

"Sometimes, yeah."

Sophie stares intently into her milkshake, slowly stirring it. "My dad isn't around either," she says glumly.

Harvey is acutely aware of the fact. His fists clench under the table, what he wouldn't give to throw one decent punch at that pathetic man.

"You've got your mom though, your Aunt Rachel, your Uncle Mike," he reassures her.

"And Uncle Louis."

"Don't remind me," Harvey mumbles.

Sophie giggles. "Mom says you and Uncle Louis don't get along."

"We have our moments, but yeah, she's right for the most part."

"Did you know my dad?" she suddenly asks, putting him on the spot.

"I met him years ago. Once. But I didn't know him."

"Not like you know mom."

Harvey smiles fondly. "No, not like I know your mom."

Sophie goes back to happily eating her fries and Harvey is relieved that she has dropped the subject of fathers. It's already bizarre enough that he's spending Father's Day with somebody else's daughter.

"What do we do next?" Sophie asks after they finish paying the bill.

Harvey thinks for a moment. "Your mom ever teach you to play sports?"

* * *

"Remember, keep your hands together and rest the bat on your shoulder."

Sophie nods resolutely, her helmet almost slipping down past her eyes. Harvey jogs over to her side and adjusts the helmet.

"It's too big."

"You're too small. Now you've got this, just like we practised."

Harvey steps out of the batting cage and gives Sophie a thumbs up. She smiles nervously, then swivels her head, focusing in front.

He stands back, arms folded, waiting for the first ball. It's released slowly, ideal for a first time hitter. Sophie swings and narrowly misses the ball.

"Don't worry about it Soph, you'll get the next one."

Another ball shoots out. Sophie swings again, harder this time, her bat connecting with the ball. It flies out a few metres in front. Harvey whistles.

Sophie rips off her helmet, grinning triumphantly.

"I hit it! I hit it!"

Harvey runs into the cage, ignoring the rules. He snatches her helmet and plants it back on her head. He points to the small scar hidden in his hairline. "Helmet on, remember? Or you'll get hit like I did."

"Yes, Uncle Harvey," she dutifully replies.

Harvey playfully rolls his eyes at her tone of voice. He pats Sophie on the back.

"Go on then, champ," he teases.

She ends up hitting twenty out of twenty five balls. Harvey is oddly proud.

* * *

It's a little after ten when he hears a soft knock on his front door. He pauses the movie and hoists his weary body off the couch. He opens the door and Donna stands in front of him, a frown on her face, hair piled into a bun on top of her head. She still looks beautiful, even when exhausted. She tries to smile when she sees him, mentally preparing the brave face she has no doubt been wearing all day.

Harvey isn't fooled. He bridges the gap between them and gathers her into his arms. Her body folds into his, her head resting perfectly in the crook of his neck. He feels her tense, if only for a moment, before she relaxes entirely, arms wrapping around him in return. Physical contact is a rare, if not unheard of occurrence in their relationship, but holding her like this suddenly feels like the most natural thing in the world. No wonder he's been avoiding it for all these years.

"Sorry to pile this on you," Donna mumbles into his shoulder.

"You've been dealing with my shit for how many years now?"

She chuckles, even through her tears.

"You're right. I've been owed this for a while."

"Forever, probably."

Harvey feels her start to pull away and he releases the hold he has on her waist.

"How's your dad?"

Donna sweeps her hand across her cheek. "He's going to be on observation for the next few days, but he'll be okay as long as he alters his diet, starts exercising. You know, all the boring things we all avoid doing until it's too late to make a difference."

He can detect the bitterness in her voice, but chooses to let her words lie.

"Where's Sophie?"

Harvey puts a finger to his lips and beckons Donna to follow him into the living room where Sophie sleeps peacefully, stretched out across Harvey's couch, her red hair fanning out in all directions.

He sees Donna melt at the sight and it does strange things to his insides.

Donna's eyes snap to the TV. She looks at him incredulously.

"You let her watch _Clueless_?"

"She said it was her favourite movie."

"It's _my _favourite movie and she knows I'm not letting her watch it until she's older."

"She fell asleep ten minutes in, like I knew she would."

"Hold on, you have it on Blu-ray?"

"Is that really important?"

Harvey and Donna wander over to the kitchen, allowing Sophie to sleep.

"Thanks for today. I know your plans probably didn't include babysitting my seven year old."

"She's…really great, Donna."

Donna blushes. "She is isn't she? I'm damned lucky."

"Please, she's like that because of you."

For once in her life, Donna actually looks embarrassed to receive a compliment.

"It hasn't been easy by myself."

"You'd never know it," he says. "And you don't have to, uh, keep doing it all by yourself."

Donna snorts. "I don't? Did Mitchell suddenly re-materialize and decide to become a real parent?"

"I don't mean that asshole," he quickly corrects. "I can help you out. Give you more paid vacations, less late nights. I can even spend more time with Sophie, take her to a baseball game or something. She's actually got a decent swing."

Donna gapes at him.

Harvey narrows his eyes. "Is it so shocking that I might want to spend time with your kid?"

"Well frankly, yes."

"Jeez, Donna, it's nice to know how little you think of me."

"Not what I meant, Harvey. We both know you're not exactly the paternal type. And I've had a kid for a while now, this is the first I've heard of you wanting to get to know her."

Harvey stares blankly at her. "When did this escalate into an argument?"

Donna softens. "It's been a long day, Harvey."

His eye catches the sleeping girl on his couch. "She's important to you, you're important to me."

"Okay…"

"I couldn't before," he confesses. "Not so soon after we –"

"I get it," she cuts him off.

"I'm not saying we have to try again…"

Her gaze sharpens. "Do you want to?"

"That's not what today was about. I wasn't trying to score points."

"I know you're not like that, Harvey."

Harvey steps toward her again, hand falling to the curve of her hip. He kisses her temple.

"Just think about it."

He helps Donna rouse her daughter from sleep, follows the two of them to the door, feet treading lightly so not to wake Sophie. Donna carries her sleeping daughter in her arms and mouths, _goodnight _.

He waves goodbye with just the inkling of a smile on his face, because he is _finally _damn ready.


End file.
